


Anatomy

by elementalram



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: F/M, PWP, foreign language kink, porn with a little plot, private anatomy lesson, rainy days are my favorite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25292320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elementalram/pseuds/elementalram
Summary: Things get a little hot on a rainy day at Gressenheller University when Professor Layton's assistant shows up to work soaked from the downpour.  I headcanon Layton to be able to speak French, and Emmy to speak Japanese, so if you decide to read this story, you might want to have google open on another tab.  Or just read the notes I put at the bottom.  Oh, and while you're at it, go ahead and open up rainymood.com too.  I think you'll like it.Inspired by and therefore dedicated to my friends Kyoukalay, MetricMachine, and Eucalie.
Relationships: Emmy Altava/Hershel Layton
Comments: 11
Kudos: 8





	Anatomy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kyoukalay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyoukalay/gifts), [MetricMachine](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=MetricMachine), [Eucalie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eucalie/gifts).



The Professor never quite understood why Emmy insisted on opening the window on rainy days. Most people would shun the stormy weather and declare it loathsome without a second thought. But Emmy embraced these kinds of days. She always had. And so, when the Professor arrived at his office early this afternoon, he went ahead and opened the window himself, just enough to allow the meditative song and smell of the rain to enter followed by a crisp breeze. He prepared a pot of black tea and waited for his assistant to arrive. The scent was quite pleasant, he mused with a modest smile. There was something rather cleansing about it. And paired with the aroma of freshly brewed tea, he could almost call it divine. 

Twenty minutes later, the door opened and Emmy entered the office carrying a stack of ungraded papers and miscellaneous notes from his inbox. "Special delivery!” she announced, carefully placing the stack of damp papers on the corner of his desk.

“Right on time, thank you. Let me get your coat.” He put his book down and stood up from his desk to help her peel off the sodden garment. It clung to her arms and wound up inside-out by the time they wrestled it off of her. After a brief struggle to right it, the Professor hung it on the coatrack by the door. Her yellow blazer came next.

“Thanks, Professor. They put up a bigger fight than I thought they would!” Suddenly, she wrinkled her nose. At the losing end of a short internal battle, she sneezed. 

“Goodness, Emmy.” The Professor analyzed his assistant’s form. Despite being sopping wet from head to toe, she wore a sheepish grin. Rainy days were definitely her favorites. “You’re going to catch your death if you continue like this, my dear.”

“Don’t worry, Professor,” she laughed. “You won’t be rid of me that easily.” 

“Let’s make sure of that.” 

He crossed the little office to fetch her a cup of hot tea and motioned for her to sit down at his desk. He would have had her sit on the comparatively much more comfortable couch, but at the moment it was occupied by a slew of research papers, books, and several boxes full of odd trinkets and archeological models. Unfortunately, for now, his desk chair would have to do. After taking off his brown coat and wrapping it around her shoulders, he retreated to the back of the room, muttering something about virus longevity in cooler temperatures and the epidemiological implications of remaining sodden.

Emmy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. As the satisfying heat from the cup radiated through her palms, she fancied she could smell something over the aroma of the rain and the tea. Something warm and profound, like sweet cinnamon and cloves mixed with old books. Where could that be coming from? She opened her eyes and looked down at the Professor’s coat. With a quick glance at the Professor, who was busily rummaging through a box on a shelf in the back of the room, she brought her shoulder close to her nose. She blushed. Had he always smelled this nice? 

The Professor returned to stand beside her. “I’m sorry, but this is all I could find.” He held up a large button-up shirt. “I usually keep spare clothes for when I, well....” 

“Fall asleep at your desk?” Emmy raised an eyebrow, a coy smile playing on her lips. 

“Well, yes. But Rosa must have taken them out to the laundry. This is all that’s left, I’m afraid.” 

“No problem, Professor.” Emmy set the cup down on the desk and stood. “Just don’t peek, OK?” 

A puzzled look flashed across his face. “Peek? Oh--!”

Emmy playfully grinned as she snatched the shirt and skipped her way to the back of the room. When she was sure he wasn’t looking, she buried her face in the shirt. It too smelled pleasant, like sandalwood or pine. She glanced back at her boss now sitting at his desk with a penknife in hand. He deftly sliced open an envelope and unfolded the letter inside. 

As she pulled her bowtie loose, she secretly wished he would be just a little bit less gentlemanly sometimes. 

Hershel Layton, for his part, found himself reading and rereading the opening line to the letter he had just opened. Despite the cool breeze flowing in through the window, his face was burning. In his initial confusion, he had already missed the window of opportunity he had to courteously leave the room so she could get dressed alone. If he tried to leave now, he would either have to awkwardly walk backward to the door, cross the room with his eyes shut, or risk seeing her exposed body! He scanned his mind for another solution, but none came to light. He inwardly chastised himself for his sluggish reaction time as he tried to read the first line of that accursed letter once more.

Finally finished, Emmy hung her wet shirt and bowtie up with her coat and blazer. The little hook was starting to look strained. “Hey, Professor?” 

“Hmm?” He replied without turning around.

“Where should I put my pants?” 

Silence. The Professor slowly put his letter down and sat up straight. “I’m sorry, dear. The rain is getting loud. What did you say?” 

Emmy bit her lower lip. “My pants, they were pretty soaked through from the rain, so I, uh…” She walked over to the Professor’s side. “But look! This shirt is plenty long enough to cover things up. Seriously, I've worn dresses shorter than this!” 

As Emmy entered the Professor’s periphery, he could see her long, toned, completely bare legs glide into view. Beautiful legs. Gorgeous, even. Legs strong enough to strangle and choke a man to death. He gulped. He slowly turned to see Emmy, his assistant and good friend, standing beside him wearing only a shirt. His shirt. 

“What’s the matter?”

The Professor glanced at the door and back again, trying to keep his eyes from wandering too low. “Emmy, my dear, um… Our office hours are scheduled for now, and if a student were to walk in and see…”

Emmy looked at the clock. “We still have an hour. Plenty of time for my clothes to dry off before students arrive. _If_ students arrive. We usually don’t get many on days like this.” 

“I suppose that’s true.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“No, no, I’m fine.”

“I could rush home and change--”

“I couldn’t make you do that.” 

“Well then!” Emmy smiled and placed her hands on her hips. “Let’s get to work then, shall we?” 

The Professor turned back to his letter and let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. “ _Seigneur, aide-moi à travers cela_ ,” he muttered. 

Having given up on reading his letters, the Professor picked up his pen in an attempt to write out his lesson plans for the following week. This proved more difficult than he cared to admit. Emmy had settled into the seat beside him and was flipping through the stack of completed student assignments. As she read, she tapped her pen against one knee. Perhaps the room was just chilly in comparison, but the Professor couldn't help but notice that her body seemed to radiate an excessive amount of heat. So much so, in fact, that he felt the need to tug on his collar to let some cool air flow into his shirt. A moment later, he lifted his hat off his head and set it on the trunk next to his desk. Very rarely did he ever allow another to see him without his tophat, but his circulatory activity was becoming borderline absurd, and desperate times called for desperate measures.

Emmy rubbed her throat absentmindedly. “Hey, Professor?” She looked up at him, innocently naive to the tremendous internal battle going on in the man beside her. 

“Yes?”

“Where is the..." She looked down at the paper, " _sternocleidomastoid?”_

“The... the muscle?” 

“Yeah.” She pointed toward the report at the top of the stack. “This guy here says they were able to identify this particular set of remains as having belonged to a warrior of some kind. He was mostly beheaded but for a single ‘ _sternocleidomastoid_.’” 

“Oh! It’s right here.” The Professor threw down his pen and eagerly gestured toward his neck. “It goes from here--” he pointed to a spot behind his ear, “--to here.” He pointed to the innermost point of his clavicle at the base of his neck. 

Emmy was momentarily taken aback by the Professor's spirited enthusiasm. She grinned. She shouldn't be surprised; this man _always_ gets excited to discuss academics. It was just one of the many things she admired about him. 

Emmy rubbed the side of her head. “Did you say... from here?” 

“No, right here--” 

He reached out and touched her neck. Emmy could feel a flutter in her stomach. His palms were calloused, his fingers thick and worn. His were the hands of a working man. And yet, despite their ruggedness, his touch was gentle. She smiled as his finger came to a rest at her collarbone. 

With his face growing red, the Professor quickly drew his hand away. “...And that’s where the _sternocleidomastoid_ is located.”

Emmy thought for a moment. She glanced back at the report. “And what about the _latissimus dorsi?”_

She could see the twinkle in his eyes reignite. “It’s right here.” He gripped his side. Finding himself unable to reach the muscle's entire length, a slight frown formed on his face. 

“On me.” Emmy lifted her arm, and the Professor touched a spot near her underarm. With his fingers splayed, he wrapped his hand around her back, ending at her spine. He felt his breath catch involuntarily. She felt so strong and warm under the thin fabric of his shirt. 

“Oh." She chuckled softly. "I thought it was up here.” She gripped the muscle over her shoulder.

“Ah, I believe you’re referring to your _trapezius_.” 

“And... how about the _sartorius_?” 

The Professor began to reach for her thigh but stopped. He glanced up at her face. She was looking down at her leg expectantly, a red blush over her cheeks. At his hesitation, she looked up. Their eyes met. 

The Professor folded his hands in his lap. He blinked and tried to find somewhere for his eyes to look that didn't make his face flush an even deeper shade than it already was. "T-the _sartorius_ is located on the thigh. It goes from the interior of the knee to the exterior of the pelvis." 

"Show me?" 

He felt his heart skip a beat. Surely there was a line to be drawn here somewhere. However, judging by the red hue of his assistant's face beneath her damp hair, the quick, shallow rise-and-fall of her chest beneath his shirt, and the tingling sensation growing in his gut, they may have already crossed whatever line there was to be had. Nevertheless, her eyes begged for the touch, and who was he to deny the request of a lady? 

She opened her legs just enough for him to place his hand on the inside of her knee. As expected, her thigh was very firm, and _very_ soft. From there, he drew his finger upward, first along the inner thigh, and then up and over the outside of her hip, lifting his finger only to transition from skin to the fabric of her shirt. By the time he finished, he felt that his heart might pound its way through his ribcage. And, though he would never admit it aloud, that wasn't the only part of him throbbing against its confinements.

"Okay, let me review. The _sternocleidomastoid_ is here..." Emmy scooted closer to the Professor. Their knees collided and Emmy's face grew close to his. Her faint sigh played lightly on the side of his face. She examined his neck and touched the spot behind his ear, then slid her finger down until it came to a rest on his collarbone. "The _latissimus dorsi_ is here..." Emmy nudged his arm and he lifted it to grant her access. She touched his underarm, then moved her hand over and around his ribcage until she found his spine. The Professor swallowed nervously and folded his hands in his lap once more as soon as she finished. "And the _sartorius..._ " 

Her fingers started at the inside of his knee and slowly worked their way upward. The Professor quickly moved his hand over hers to halt it. He gave it a squeeze. " _Emmy_..." 

The rhythmic melody of rain hitting the pavement continued just outside the window. Perhaps it was its cleansing aroma, the smell of books and tea, or the Professor himself _..._ but Emmy felt positively intoxicated at that moment. She longed for more, but....

Just then, a single clap of thunder boomed, and they found themselves suddenly submerged in near-total darkness as all the lights blinked out. 

Without further deliberation, they both leaned in and immediately found the other's lips. The Professor brought his hand up to cradle her soft neck; Emmy wrapped her arm around his torso, fumbling with the fabric of his shirt. Though soft at first, their kisses quickly became more intense, seeking purchase on whatever skin they could find as each one's hands began to explore more of the other's anatomy. As her lips played over his, Emmy's hand finally found its way beneath the hem of his shirt. His body was invitingly warm; she felt his muscles contract in response to her light caress, as though subjected to being tickled. She pressed more firmly, feeling each contour and ridge in his musculature. 

She broke the kiss to move up along his jawline. As her teeth grazed over his earlobe, she whispered, "Hershel, is this okay?" 

He blinked. Was the room spinning? He couldn't be sure. The only certainty in mind at this moment was that Emmy was here, and he needed more of her. And when her hand resumed its course up his thigh, he did not hinder it. On the contrary, he found himself moving into her touch, shifting his body to press into hers.

_"Ne t'arrête pas..."_ he whispered. "Don't stop, Emmy." 

As his teeth massaged the nape of her neck, she let her hand roam over his upper thigh until she found what she sought. His pelvis ground into her hand and the Professor moaned deeply. A gasp escaped her lips; he was long, thick, and very, very hard. She felt a tantalizing pang at her core as she gripped and stroked its shape through the fabric of his pants. 

"Hershel!" she gasped, _「すげー!」_

Emmy had a thing for switching languages when she was excited. This, the Professor knew. He had even picked up a few curses since they'd first met, though propriety demanded he not use them, naturally. So, when she started speaking Japanese, he wasn't surprised. He was, however, very startled when she pushed herself off her chair to get on her knees in front of him. With desperation at a near fevered pitch, she yanked opened his zipper and pulled him out. Already dripping, it twitched with anticipation in her grasp. The Professor leaned back in his chair and seized his desk for dear life. With his other hand, he ran his fingers through his assistant's hair as she placed her wet tongue at the base. He groaned openly as her tongue made its way to the top almost painfully slowly. The Professor held still, though Emmy could tell that he had mustered all of his self-restraint in order to do so. Thankfully, blissfully, he was soon rewarded for his patience when Emmy closed her mouth around the tip and quickly engulfed as much of him as she could. The Professor groaned loudly once more as she moved her head back down again, this time with more urgency. Soon, she was moving with a speedy rhythm, using her hands to pump and stroke all that she couldn't fit in her mouth. 

"Let me _prendre fort,_ " he groaned. _"Laisse moi te prendre fort."_

The Professor suddenly pulled her up and onto his desk. His papers, books, and both teacups fell to the floor with a clatter. He kissed her hard and yanked open her dress shirt, grounding himself against the wet spot in her underwear between her open legs. 

_「教授、ヤバイ!」_

He kissed down her chin and over her neck, playfully nibbling the aforementioned muscle on the side. He reached her clavicle, and then... Emmy leaned back and gasped as he circled his tongue over her breasts tweaking and pulling until her nipples were hard. He leaned back to survey his prize. Her freckled chest, pink from his attention, rose and fell quickly; her neck and clavicle were properly reddened; her cheeks and lips were rosy and flushed, and her eyes burned with an insidious suggestion that spelled _desire_. 

Emmy, too, was drinking in the sight before her. His hair was tousled, his clothing disheveled. And to top it off, the purportedly professional gentleman was surveying her body with a carnal-yet-calculating gaze. She squirmed under his lustful watch as he massaged his bare cock against her wetness. She watched his lips and leaned in for another kiss. 

_"J’ai envie de toi, Emmy,"_ he said between gasps, _"I need you."_

Emmy moaned her affirmations with just enough coherency for the Professor to understand. He gently pulled her underwear down to the floor and let it drop at their feet. Her sex now fully bare to him, he rubbed his length between her wet folds, thoroughly relishing each lust-filled gasp and yearning tremble. He ached to enter her now, to fill her to the brim, but there was something he felt he needed to do first. 

The Professor took a step back and kissed her knee. How long had he secretly dreamed of being between these incredible limbs? Privately scolded himself for letting his eyes linger too long? He kissed further down the inside of her thigh, allowing his tongue to savor each solid muscle beneath its wonderfully squishy layer of fat. Emmy bucked her hips just a little as he approached her center. With a loud cry, she arched her back rolled her hips to meet each lick, each flick of his tongue, and each guttural moan against her core. She folded her legs over his shoulders and eagerly ground herself against his face. The Professor gripped her thighs as she raked her nails through his hair. 

"Oh, _入れてくれ_ 、Hershel! Fuck me!" 

After one last deep kiss, the Professor stood up. Emmy unwrapped her legs for only long enough to rewrap them around his back. In the next moment, Emmy could feel him pressed against her entrance, then slowly stretched by his thickness as he advanced inch-by-inch. At long last, their bodies were flush against each other. Here, the Professor paused to appreciate the moment: the smell of the rain mixed with that of their sex, the rapid rise-and-fall of her chest, and the flushed tone of his assistant's skin beneath his body made him wild. Spurred on by the impatient and merciless rolling of her hips, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and began to thrust. Emmy gripped his hair once more with one hand; the other slipped under his orange shirt, her fingers splayed out wide to grip and feel as much of his undulating musculature as possible. 

_「あ、あ！早なさい、教授！」_

The desk banged noisily against the wall, but neither was lucid enough to consider that they might alert any curious passersby outside the open window. No, with every push and thrust effectively doubling their sexual pleasure, both were soon at the brink. As she moaned his name again and again, Emmy could feel a strong warmth gather at her core. Her panting paused as her whole body tightened around him.

The Professor struggled to maintain any semblance of composure. He could tell she was close. _So close._ He moved one hand over her pelvis to massage her dripping clit. She screamed his name one last time as her whole body convulsed in pure ecstasy. Now finding it impossible to keep any kind of rhythm, he held tight to her hips and pushed himself in as deep as he could. She cried out again as she felt him erupt deep inside of her, pulsing and throbbing as he released everything. 

As the last waves of pleasure rolled over them, they collapsed against the desk. The lights in the little office were still out, and the rain continued to beat outside, but the Professor and his assistant found comfort in the other's warm embrace. 

"God, Emmy, that was amazing. I never want to leave this spot," the Professor mumbled into Emmy's neck. 

Emmy hummed in agreement as she hugged him tighter. They still had fifteen minutes before their scheduled office hours, after all. Fifteen minutes to do nothing but enjoy each other. With a sigh, she lazily traced the muscles along his sides with one finger. 

"So, Professor, what muscles are these?"

"Hmm? My _external obliques?"_

_"Obliques?_ Okay... And these?" She laughed as she slapped his butt. It was surprisingly firm. 

He chuckled. "That, my dear, is called the _gluteus maximus."_

"Well, Hershel, you have nice _gluteus maximi._ " She rubbed her hands over his backside, and by so doing ground him deeper inside of her. He pulsed with renewed pleasure.

The Professor propped himself up on his elbows to look at her captivating grin in the dim light coming in through the window. "Oh, is that so? I had no idea." 

"Mm-hmm. Nice glutes _,_ nice pecs, nice _sterno-whooza-whatsits_...." 

"Oh my, Emmy. It sounds like you need another lesson." 

"God, yes, Professor." Emmy bit her lip, suddenly embarrassed by her own eager tone.

He leaned in close to her ear. "I'll teach you _all_ the skeletal muscles this time." He kissed lightly behind her ear and began to work his way down to her clavicle. Emmy rolled her head back to allow greater access. "What do you say, dear?" 

She moaned. " _Please_." 

He chuckled. "I'll go lock the door." 

**Author's Note:**

> Translations in order of appearance: 
> 
> Seigneur, aide-moi à travers cela = Lord, help me through this.
> 
> Ne t'arrête pas= Don't stop.
> 
> すげー! = Wow!
> 
> 教授、ヤバイ! = Kind of like "wow"
> 
> J’ai envie de toi = I want you.
> 
> 入れてくれ = Enter me/ fuck me?
> 
> あ、あ！早なさい、教授！ = Faster, Professor! :P


End file.
